Empathy
by Cherry
Summary: When the line between fantasy and reality starts to blur, how can you tell where dreams end and memory begins? Movie-verse.


Empathy

Summary: When the line between fantasy and reality starts to blur, how can you tell where dreams end and memory begins?  
  
Thanks to: Charon MMM, who did a wonderful job beta'ing  
  
Disclaimer: Not mine. Enough said.  
  
Archive: Go ahead and take it, though I wouldn't mind if you dropped me a note to let me know where.  
  
*  
  
When he awoke, he could feel the fire still burning merrily, the heat from it gently warming his cheek. He lay perfectly still, keeping his breathing even, as he looked for what had woken him. He couldn't smell anything out of place, and no noises drifted to his ears from the dark around him.  
  
No noises at all, save the sputtering of the fire. The night life was silent.  
  
He waited, patiently. Nothing changed. He finally cracked one eye partly open.  
  
Standing on the other side of the fire was a young girl, partially obscured by the flames. She stood, unmoving, gazing at him steadily with deep vibrant eyes the colour of a summer sky on a hot day, shocking against her pale skin and white blonde hair. She'd known the second he awoke, though he'd kept up the pretence, one eye open only enough to watch her. She said nothing.   
  
She carried no scent, though she looked as solid as he himself.  
  
The wind shifted suddenly, and the fire blazed up. When it died back down, she was gone. He was out of his sleeping bag in an instant and where she had stood, straining his senses for any hint of her identity.  
  
There wasn't a single track in the campsite, save for his own.  
  
  
Then the wind was whipping past his face, carrying the scent of turning leaves, hot asphalt, and exhaust. Shaking his head, Logan gave himself a mental smack as he snapped out of it, thankful that he hadn't lost his balance on the motorcycle. His healing factor would look after him, but it would still hurt like a bugger if he crashed. The dreams were coming even during the day now. He had no control over them, couldn't even feel them coming on.   
  
He'd hoped that they'd stop after he left Xavier's, but in the two months since then, they'd only increased in frequency. He'd been free of them for almost two years. Now he wondered if he should've told Chuck about them, let the man take a few laps inside his head, trying to figure out what had caused them. They'd started suddenly, a bit more than three years ago, brought on by nothing that he could pin down. They'd ended just as abruptly, not bothering until he was saved by the weather witch and one eye.   
  
The worst part of it was, back then, he had never been able to remember them for long after waking, just that they felt incredibly real. Now, they seemed to blend with the weather witch's soft voice and white hair, the way that Marie had looked at him when she'd said that she couldn't touch people. Now they haunted him incessantly.  
  
Opening the throttle up, Logan accelerated, pulling easily up to the car that shared the road with him. The man inside flipped him the bird.   
  
Logan grinned at him, and popped his middle claw. The man's face contorted in shock, and Logan moved the motorcycle out in front as the driver swerved on the road.  
  
he muttered under his breath.  
  
Leaving the car behind him, Logan roared down the old highway. Just enjoying the feel of air in his face, he followed the road where it led, trying to clear his head. He turned onto the interstate, weaving among the heavier traffic on Scott's liberated bike. When it grew too heavy, he pulled into the lanes and impatiently waited.   
  
*I gotta be getting near a big city,* he thought. He hadn't been paying much attention to where he was going, not really caring, but being slowly drawn here. Looking around, he saw a sign that read Boston City Limits, 20 Miles. It hung slightly crooked on orange posts.  
  
Recognition stirred within him, and he felt filled with the echoes of a sudden need to hurry. Time's running out, he whispered. The conscious part of him knew that this was the remnants of memories long past, buried under the amnesia. But that part was being submerged in alien feelings, worry for someone, and something akin to panic rising up in him. He pulled to the shoulder and gunned the motor, speeding towards the rising buildings he could see faintly, off in the distance.  
  
By the time he actually reached the outskirts, he was thinking rationally again. He was in a huge city, his cash reserves almost depleted. He couldn't set camp in the park, couldn't hunt for his food. He'd need to find a place to chain the bike, a chain, a job.  
  
The thought of turning around, or driving right through Boston never crossed his mind.   
  
He was already in too deep.  
  
*  
  
the mutant known only as Mastermind started as he walked into the huge office. The man seated in the leather chair raised his hand, motioning the telepath to stop. He continued to look out the plate glass window, at the city bustling fifty stories below them, as he finished his call on the headset.  
  
He spun the chair around to face his subordinate, hanging the headset over the corner of the flat screen monitor. Rubbing his dark hair, the man asked, What is it, Mastermind? His cultured voice was heavy with a Bostonian lilt.  
  
Well, sir, I'm afraid you're not going to like this. He's back in town.  
  
the other man asked in exasperation. He took a look at Mastermind's face, and knew. Does my daughter know?  
  
No, I checked her blocks. They're still holding strong. She's under control.  
  
Good. Does he remember?  
  
I don't think so, but I'm afraid to go too deeply into his mind. He's been in contact with a very powerful telepath. I don't want to take the chance that he's still under surveillance, but if I had to hazard a guess, I'd say that he has no idea.  
  
So by acting, we might create a situation where there was none?  
  
  
  
Keep up passive scans on him. I want to know what he's doing, who he's seeing, what he's eating. We'll leave him alone for the time being, see how it develops. But if there is the smallest sign...  
  
I understand.  
  
And Mastermind, the man continued, his cold voice stopping the mutant as he headed for the door. When we are here, I'm always Robert. And to you, I'm always Mr. Frost.  
  
*  
  
Logan pushed his way through the throngs on the sidewalk, cursing the lack of parking spaces which had made him leave the bike chained up three blocks from his intended destination. He glanced at the want ads in the paper, making sure that he was in the right area. All of the circled ads were crossed out with red pen, save for the last one. Dock worker for a shipping company. All of the other interviews had been the same. The personnel recruiter would look at him strangely, ask him with distaste what his name was...  
  
  
  
You have a name, girl? Logan asked the blonde in his campsite again. She'd been coming for the past five weeks, never staying long, never moving much, never trying to communicate, but listening. Somewhere along the way he'd started to talk to her, as if she were a diary, and he the little girl that kept it. She'd become his silent companion. He guessed that he didn't mind that much. It helped take the sting out of the loneliness that even an assassin was prone to.   
  
No matter where he travelled, she'd find him, somehow keeping up with him, even though she looked all of eight.   
  
He wondered if maybe he was going insane, if he spent his nights confiding in a figment of his imagination. She didn't have a scent, never ate, and appeared and disappeared without a single trace.   
  
She continued to stare into the fire. Thinking that she hadn't heard him, Logan reached out to touch her wrist. She reacted violently, jerking away from him, stumbling backwards. She stood, ready to take flight, her eyes wild with fear.  
  
It's all right, he said soothingly, not knowing why he cared if she ran and never came back. Now that he thought of it, he'd never touched her. Now he knew that she was substantial, at least. He wondered what had been done to her, to make her so afraid of human touch. Look, I'm not going to hurt you. When she didn't change her posture, he tried again, If it makes you feel better, I won't try and touch you. She still didn't react. Fine. You want to stand away from the fire, and me, go ahead. He sat back down and pulled his shoes off. When he turned around, she was gone. Cursing, he threw his boot at a tree.  
  
  
People gave Logan a wide berth as he swore and threw a newspaper down the sidewalk. He stopped himself before popping his claws. Raising his hands to his head, he leaned back against the office building he found himself in front of.  
  
If this didn't get better soon, by the time he found out who was responsible for this, someone was going to be in for a world of hurt.   
  
Biting back his anger, he walked over to the curb, where the paper had skidded, and picked it up. He started to ask someone where he had wandered while he was on autopilot, so he could get to the one business left in his list of possible employers. He glanced at the building, grunting at the sight of the sign hanging above the door.   
  
Frost Industries. He pushed through the revolving doors and into the lobby.  
  
He was right where he was supposed to be.  
  
Upstairs, Mastermind's eyes shot open at what his scan revealed. //Security.// He called, alerting them. //The target is down at the front desk.//  
  
Logan smiled gruffly at the receptionist, a woman in her mid thirties, trying to look twenty-six. She took in his clothes, and the stubble which had grown up on his face since his last shave that morning, pursed her bubble gum pink lips, and forced her voice to be pleasant. Hello. How may I help you?  
  
I'm here about the loading job. I saw your ad in the paper.  
  
I'm sorry, she said, expression belying the comment. The position has already been filled.  
  
Since this mornin' darling? This paper is brand new, he said, holding it up. She grimaced slightly. It was looking a little worse for the wear after its trip down the road. Why don't you just check in that nice little computer of yours?  
  
Something strange passed across her face. I'll take a look, she said, suddenly more pleasant. She typed something into the keyboard, then turned to him and smiled. The smile was more unnerving than her earlier thinly veiled hostility. You're in luck, she said. Turns out someone quit this morning, so there is an opening after all. If you'd just like to go up to the thirteenth floor, then Mr. Masadu will give you an interview, she said brightly.  
  
Logan felt his hackles go up. The receptionist's sudden change in attitude and story felt suspicious.  
  
Almost like she'd received instructions.  
  
*Screw the job. Something is seriously wrong here,* he thought, turning to go.  
  
Yelled the receptionist. Aren't you going to go up?  
  
Logan lengthened his stride, keeping his hands at the ready. The elevator behind him pinged, discharging its passengers. He turned to see a group of uniformed guards standing there at the ready. If he'd gone to get in, they would've gotten him for sure. A guard was blocking his way to the door now, another coming at him from the side. He stopped and dropped into a fighting stance, a smile curling at his lips. It'd been a while since he'd had a good tussle.  
  
Then he found himself standing up and marching over to the elevator, which was being held open by one of the guards. He fought, but his body was out of his control. His legs moved against his will, and he found himself stepping into the elevator.  
  
The last thing he saw before everything went black was the stock of one of the guard's gun slamming towards his temple.  
  
*  
  
Logan moved his arms slowly, following the pattern Mariko had taught him. Feeling the twinge that told him the girl was there, he continued, letting nothing but the movement intrude upon his consciousness. Finishing, he glanced over his shoulder to see Aurora mimicking his motion. He smiled at her. She started a little at his gaze, hanging her head so that he couldn't see her eyes.  
  
You're getting good, Aurora, he said gruffly. Surprised, she looked up at him. Seeing that he wasn't teasing, a grin split her face like nothing he'd ever seen.  
  
He sat down at the fire and reached for his supper. The pot of beans sat partially into the flames, warming slowly. Or at least, they should have been warming slowly.  
  
Swearing, he jerked his hand back, examining the blisters already rising on his skin from the pot handle. He'd lost track of time while doing Tai Chi. The pot had to have been in there for much more than a few minutes, judging by the severity of the burns written across hand. He growled. It was healing even then, but the pain was still shooting up his arm in jagged lines. Then Aurora was crouched beside him, as silent as ever. He could feel the concern waving off of her. I'll be fine, he grunted.  
  
She held out her hand, demanding that he offer his up for her inspection. Logan hesitated. He hadn't tried to touch her since she'd shied away from him all that time ago. Her eyes bored into him, telling him not to be such a baby. When he still didn't move, she reached forward and grabbed his wrist, being careful to avoid touching the burn.  
  
She watched in shock as the blisters sank back into his flesh, not letting go until his skin returned to its natural colour. She released his hand in shock, stumbling backwards. She raised her eyes to his face, slowly, watching him carefully. Smoke from the fire stung his eyes, and a piece of ash or something caught in one. Squeezing them shut out of reflex, he fought the instinct to rub them, knowing that it would do no good. When he opened them, blurred with water, she was gone, leaving only one word echoing inside his head, bouncing back and forth in a soft, lightly inflected voice.  
  
//Mutant.//  
  
  
"At least I've chosen a side," Marie called at him as he roared away from the school, gunning the bike. But no matter how fast he drove, her cries still reached his ears, Ororo still floated along beside him on the winds. He drove faster, not wanting to look at her and see in her eyes what he had denied himself for so long.  
  
  
And he waited in the campsite, years earlier, wondering if he could catch his mysterious visitor. She'd only come a few times since he'd asked her her name, tried to touch her. So he stared into the fire, hoping that he was finally rid of her, at the same time he sat vigilantly. When he had assured himself that she wouldn't come, he turned to rise from the log, leaping to his feet as he saw her sitting on the end, well out of arm's reach.  
  
You keep that up, and one day you're going to end up dead, he said. You can't always count on my not skewering you. She didn't even look at him. Look, I can't just keep calling you or . You going to tell me your name?  
  
She continued to watch the flames dance around, inching forward to absorb a little more of the warmth.  
  
If you're not going to tell me, I'm just going to think of something to call you. And since I'm not very good at the name game, chances are, you won't like it.  
  
She just rubbed her hands together, blew on them, trying to force some warmth into her long, pale fingers. Logan took a look at what she was wearing for the first time that night. A white t-shirt tucked into a pair of washed out blue jeans, and cream high top sneakers.   
  
Definitely not proper attire considering the temperature.  
  
He asked, getting up and walking towards his pack. Mildred. Augusta. Bess? he asked, throwing a spare jacket to the ground by her feet. She quickly grabbed it and shrugged it into place. he continued. None of 'em seem to fit. He sat back down on the log, studying her. The colour of her eyes against her hair reminded him of something. He sat, trying to place it. Aurora. Like the Aurora Borealis. I bet you don't see them much, but up in Saskatchewan, where I think I'm from, they're magnificent. It okay if I call you Aurora?  
  
A slight nod on her part was the only sign that she'd even heard him.  
  
You know, Aurora, fires in the woods with dangerous old men isn't the safest place for a girl your age. Your parents must be worried sick about you.  
  
That last comment drew a look filled with such disgust and pain that Logan might have taken a step back, if he hadn't been seated. Her face closed over quickly though. It was something Logan had noticed her becoming more adept at over the past weeks, that layer of ice over her emotions.   
  
It wasn't something a child should be able to do. Sometimes he thought of what must have happened to her to make her this way.  
  
He tried not to. Chances were, he'd done the same things to many others.   
  
Empathy wasn't something that he could afford.  
  
  
A hand grabbed his shoulder, shaking him from his dreams. He snapped awake at the touch, cotton against his bare skin. He looked up at Marie. "Aurora's not here," she whispered, panic starting to fill her warm eyes. Logan untangled himself from Ro, who was just beginning to wake, sitting up in the bed.  
  
"What do ya mean, she's not here?"  
  
"Ah went to get a glass of water, and ah noticed that her door was open, and you know how she always makes sure that it's locked closed. So ah went inside ta check on her, and, and..." Marie started to stutter.  
  
"Take a deep breath, child." Ro watched as Marie took a shuddering breath and composed herself. "Now, try again."  
  
"Ah went to make sure that she was all right, and she wasn't there. She wasn't there. Her window was open, and there were scratches on the sill, like someone had jimmied the lock. Her bed was a mess and ah'm worried. Ah'm really worried. Ah don't think that she left."  
  
By the time that the girl had finished speaking, both Ororo and Logan were out of bed and dressed. Logan pelted out of the master bed room and down the stairs, heading for Aurora's room. Storm touched down at the same time as his feet hit the floor, having opted simply to fly.   
  
If Aurora had been sneaking out of the house, she just would have used the back door. Marie wouldn't have woken up, and she would have been less likely to make a noise that Logan upstairs would pick up as being unusual.  
  
He skidded to stop when he saw Aurora's room. Storm sidled around him, wanting to see what had startled him so badly. The normally meticulous room looked like a cyclone had hit it.  
  
How had he not heard the commotion that it must have taken to destroy the room this thoroughly?  
  
The cool air blowing in through the window destroyed the scent of the place a bit. If it hadn't, Logan thought that he might have thrown up. It smelled of decay and something horribly *bad*. Underneath it all, he detected something familiar. He followed his nose, ending up at the window. He reached out and touched the frame.  
  
"What is it?" Storm asked from behind him.  
  
His fingers came away sticky. "Blood." He heard Marie gasp behind him. By the looks of it, the blood had been there for a while. He felt the anger start to build inside of him.  
  
They'd never dared to come to his family's home before. Growling, he hopped out of the window, following the scent towards the woods. When he reached the shelter of the trees, something hurtled into him, and all he knew was darkness.  
  
He woke slowly, realizing in time that the pain suffusing his body did not come from being attacked in the woods. The press of cold against his side was the only thing that lessened the aches. As the girl danced behind his eyelids, Logan woke in a cold cell, no more than a few metres square. The brick walls were featureless, unbroken even by windows. The illumination in the room came from a single flickering bulb above his head. He was lying on a thin pallet, his side against the cool brick wall. Trying to move, he found that the sensations in his dream hadn't begun to tell him just how badly bruised he really was.  
  
He must not have been out for long though. His injuries were just beginning to heal over. He winced as he rose, realizing that the guards had had a good go at him while he was unconscious. Logan began to pace, working out some of the stiffness.  
  
There was room for only a few strides before he had to turn around. The door was locked, of course. But it looked to be made of ordinary wood. Feeling a nasty expression cross his face, he moved so that he was just in range of it. The fools must not have known as much about him as they thought, for them to leave him in a room like this.  
  
Drawing back his fist, he popped his claws.  
  
Or, he tried to.  
  
A blinding pain shot up his arm and echoed inside his head, his claws still retracted.  
  
Maybe not so stupid after all. His claws were still there, he could feel them under his skin, but they'd found a way to prevent him from utilising them. His healing factor seemed to still be working, but at a slower rate, so he had no idea how long he'd really been out.  
  
Now all he had to do was figure out why he was being held captive, figure out a way to get out of here, and get rid of whatever was controlling his claws.  
  
No problem.  
  
Then the air in the small room grew heavy, and Logan felt himself slipping back into dreams.  
  
He guided the motorbike through the light night time traffic, weaving among them as fast as he could. A sign hanging crookedly on orange posts flashed by him, remaining in his sight only long enough for him to read 'Boston City Limits, 20 Miles'. His head pounded to the beat of the machine. Faster. Faster.  
  
Time was running out.  
  
Then came the part that even now he couldn't remember, waking to echoes of pain, smoke searing his nose.  
  
*  
  
As the gas filtered out of the room, Logan began to wake. Half remembered dreams slipped through his fingers, leaving him with a sense of loss. He heard a light pattering of feet outside the door.   
  
*Aurora* he thought, reaching for her. He felt a light brush against his mind, cold and shocking. Then it was gone as the feet retreated, to be replaced by the heavier steps of two others and murmured conversation. They paused outside the door, still conversing. Logan stilled his body while his mind raced, stifling the growl that tried to rise up as he realized that he couldn't make out their words. He had no idea who would walk in through that door. It could be a member of the Brotherhood, though this didn't seem like their style.   
  
It could be some anti-mutant group, but they would have had no way of telling of his mutation.  
  
Plus, chances were that if it were a hate group, he'd be dead already.  
  
So he continued to pretend to sleep and waited for someone to come through the door. If only one of them entered, then he'd jump the man.  
  
But two people walked through the door. "You might as well get up," he was told. Logan just lay there as if in a drugged stupor. "It's of no use, you know. Mastermind sensed you wake."  
  
Giving up the act, Logan opened his eyes and swung to a sitting position on the hard bed. A slight man, the one referred to as Mastermind most likely, leaned against the wall by the door.  
  
The open door.  
  
"I'm sorry for the accomodations in which you find yourself," the other man continued, running a hand through his wavy black hair. Logan disliked him on the spot. "Your arrival was rather sudden you see, and we just had to be sure before we let you go wandering around the compound." Following Logan's gaze, he smiled. "You are free to leave at any time, of course, but I had hoped that you would stay and enjoy our hospitality." Logan could see the lie in the other man's eyes. He wanted to be rid of the mountain man as soon as possible.  
  
But he would let Logan go free. Feeling his stubbornness start to kick in, he leaned back on the bed, making himself comfortable.  
  
"Had to be sure of what, Bub?"  
  
"That you were you."  
  
"I'm pretty sure that I'm me. Doesn't explain why your guards kidnapped me and then proceeded to kick the living shit out of me when I was unconscious. I'd like an apology for that, by the way. And for your Mastermind taking control of my body and marching me right over to them."  
  
The dark haired man glanced over at his companion, who winced. "Mastermind acted rashly, and he is going to be suitably reprimanded. But you are going to have to forgive the guards."  
  
"And why would I want to do that, Bub?"  
  
The man took a deep breath and started to speak.  
  
Logan interrupted. "Better make this good, Bub."  
  
The man's eyes flashed, but the only other sign of his annoyance was a slight twitch in his cheek. "My name is Jack Frost. I would thank you to address me as such. I am the Black King of the Hell Fire Club, so if you must, you may call me by my title. I am one of the richest men in the world, controlling one of the most successful global shipping companies. I am not a man you want to make antagonize."  
  
"Whatever you say Bub." Logan didn't know what it was that drove him to aggravate the man. Something deep inside of him stirred, trying to dredge up the memories again. "But you sure had mean parents."  
  
"My name is not actually Jack, you..." Frost trailed off. "It is just common courtesy to address those you capture by the name that you go by in the underworld."  
  
"I'm sure that it strikes fear into the hearts of your enemies, but let's get down to business. What is it about big bad old job hunting me that scared your telepath so badly?"  
  
"It wasn't you precisely. It was who you'd been in contact with." Logan's mind started to race. How far would he go to protect Xavier, if it meant giving up the witch and Marie? "You see, my daughter is a mutant."   
  
Which one of the women that he'd left behind could have been this man's flesh and blood? He didn't bear as much as a passing resemblance to any of the ones that he'd spent any time with, but looks could be deceiving. Plus there were more people at that school than he'd gotten to know. Frost was still talking. "She's sick. She's even spent several years in an institution. She has a tendency to call people towards her. She can't see that I love her, and try to protect her." Frost's face didn't hold any of the characteristics of a man speaking of his beloved daughter, though. It looked more like he was talking about a sick dog. "She's been known to do something to people's heads, often without even realizing it. She'll leave fake memories of herself in those who have never even lain eyes on her. It's almost like she creates a web. Those who are ensnared are drawn steadily towards her, trapped in lies. They, however, see her as the one trapped and try to rescue her." He paused, glancing almost imperceptibly at Mastermind. "We've had some rather nasty confrontations with people of that ilk, and lost more than a few good guards. That's why they took it out on you, you see. They can't bring themselves to blame my daughter, because when she's not having a fit, she's a perfectly normal girl. If you'd gotten to her, I don't like to think of what the consequences would have been, for either of you." Frost continued to speak, but Logan began to tune him out. So this had nothing to do with Xavier.   
  
Aurora was Frost's daughter. She had to be. Were the dreams.....  
  
But Frost's story rang false. Logan didn't buy it. She may be his daughter, but he probably wasn't representing her right. At the back of his mind, something ticked. *Frost, at least a decade younger, counting out bills into Logan's palm. The hit had gone off smoothly. Turning around to leave and seeing the tail of a white nightgown disappear down the hall.* Logan shook himself. Dream, planted memory, something else? He wasn't going to take Frost at face value. Just look at the way he treated his own daughter. In all the time that he'd been talking of her, he hadn't even said her name. Almost as if she were a possession. One thing was for sure. He wasn't going to get the truth if he left.  
  
Something smelled here, and it wasn't just Mastermind's cologne.  
  
*  
  
Frost flashed his most debonair smile at Logan. The grizzled man just grunted as he flopped back onto the king sized bed, still wearing his boots. Frost continued smiling, feeling the sides of his face start to crack. Logan opened one eye a slit. "You still here?" Keeping the smile even then, Frost walked out of the room.  
  
Mastermind fell into step beside his employer. "Remind me again," Frost said, grinding to a halt, "Why, exactly, we're not just killing him."  
  
"Emma."  
  
"It's been long enough. She shouldn't suffer any negative impacts."  
  
"Jack, with all due respect, you have no idea how strong the bonds can be, especially when the telepath is in distress during their forming. It's not the sort of thing that just fades away. Never mind the fact that it was allowed to go unchecked for so long, or that they were formed when she was so young."  
  
"That was why we didn't kill him then. It's gotten old. Couldn't you try to cover it again?"  
  
"His mind has already been messed with so many times. The brain can only be manipulated so far. And keep in mind that with his proximity to your daughter, she'd likely feel it. The safest course of action is just to go along with him, allay his suspicions."  
  
"That's all well and good, but the first sign that he's causing a fuss, he's gone. This has been hanging over my head for almost three years now, and I'm sick of it."  
  
Logan, lying on the bed in one of the Mansion's myriad guest rooms, kept his breathing even. Mastermind had released his mental block on Logan's powers when Frost had made it clear that the short man was to be his guest. Logan's current expression didn't betray the fact that he'd heard his reluctant host's conversation. He had no doubt that someone was monitoring him from a control room within the complex.  
  
No sign passed across his face to indicate that he was left more confused than he'd started out. For the time frame that Frost was referring to, he had memories. And they didn't coincide with anything else the man said. He could just walk out of here whenever he wanted to. But then he'd never find out the truth about Aurora. About his part.  
  
*Emma*, he reminded himself. It seemed right.  
  
When he was sure that Mastermind and Frost were gone for the time being, he allowed himself to slip into sleep, hoping to find the answers there that eluded him in day.  
  
*  
  
He flicked a lighter and held it to the tip of the cigar. His last client had thrown the Cubans in as a bonus to his fee, a reward for pinning the hit on one of the client's not favourite people. The hotel was non-smoking, but with the rate he was paying for the rather spacious room, they'd better let it slide. The room was a rare indulgence for him. He preferred to keep his own company, smell the clean night air. He picked up the remote, flicking aimlessly through the seemingly endless progression of channels.  
  
"Use Yead's Lawn Fertiliser.......This is a public service announcement, brought.......But Bert, you promised me that you'd never drink again!.......And the fastest jumping video so far for the summer of.......Buffy, you can't really be thinking of going in there alone.......Look at that, Ladies and Gentlemen!"  
  
With a snort of disgust, he smacked the off button. Taking a deep drag of the cigar, he turned around.  
  
Aurora was crouched on his bed, her posture uneasy. As far as he could figure, she was about fourteen.   
  
In eight years, she hadn't spoken outloud to him, hadn't been this skittish.  
  
In eight years, she hadn't shown up when he was in a populated area.  
  
"What are you doing here?" Moving cautiously towards her, he slowed his pace. She started slightly at his approach. Tension radiated off of her. Sitting cautiously on the bed beside her, he watched her scamper away from him.   
  
"Hey, what's wrong, Aurora?" She looked ready to bolt. "Look, it's all right. I'm not going to hurt you." When she didn't respond, he took a deep breath. Her eyes were some undefinable mix of emotions, almost glowing in the low lights. She looked like a wraith, white clothes and hair, pale skin. She seemed to have lost weight, grown harder. Without any conscious effort on his part, his hands darted out, seizing her above the wrists.  
  
::Fearpainresolvecan'ttakeitanymorewearinessending::  
  
Then she lashed out with her foot, catching him in the solar plexus in one smooth, practiced motion. The flow cut off as soon as their skin broke contact, but it echoed in Logan's head, bouncing back and forth amongst the pain.  
  
He expected her to be gone when he regained enough control of himself to look up, but she was still in the room, now standing with her back pressed against the door.   
  
She hadn't even tried the handle to see if the door was locked. Her hand made an abortive grab for the knob, but stopped before making contact.  
  
He watched as her eyes grew less wild, regained their focus. She started to move to his side, but pulled back. He watched as her face iced over, her posture stiffened. She fell into a traditional deep bow, the one that he'd taught her with the patterns she'd followed him as he went through. She looked deeply at him, her eyes resolute.  
  
He let his head fall into his hands, breathing fiercly. When he looked up, she was gone, leaving behind whispers of goodbye floating on the air.  
  
All of a sudden he straightened, feeling his side protest even as he started to move.  
  
She wouldn't.......  
  
He remembered the feelings floating off of her.  
  
Urgency started to flow through him, and something pulled at his body, calling him East.  
  
*  
  
Logan smoothed his bushy hair back once more. He'd woken from the nap feeling as if he hadn't slept at all.  
  
The suit that he had found hanging in his room chaffed at him. But he put up with it, because Frost obviously didn't want him to be at the social. He sipped at the glass of punch gingerly, grimacing at the overly sweet taste. Not even enough booze in it to compensate.  
  
The aristocrats flitting around him didn't pay him any attention, other than to raise an eyebrow. They filled the air with expensive perfume, and the smoke from imported cigars. He supposed most of them thought that he was some sort of security guard. Snagging a canape off of the plate of a passing waiter, he surveyed the room. Black, blue, and grey everywhere, with the occasional spot of red or emerald. His own attire didn't add any variety.  
  
Something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. He turned his head just in time to catch a flash of white threading through the crowd.  
  
He headed towards where he had last seen it, pushing his way among the people. He received a few rude comments, but they didn't even catch his attention. His entire being was focussed on the glint of white. Through the thinning crowd, he saw someone disappear around a corner. He walked down the hall, turning the corner. The hall was deserted, but a door swung back and forth on its hinges at the end of the corridor.  
  
Steeling himself for anything, he reached for the handle and walked inside.  
  
  
She was standing by the windows, moonshine lighting her almost white hair. She didn't turn when he entered the room, but he knew that she knew he was there. He closed the door behind him.  
  
Leaning against the wall, he waited for her to speak.  
  
She'd reached out to him before. She'd do it again.  
  
He didn't know how much time had passed as they stood there, aeons passing in moments, seconds in hours.  
  
"You shouldn't be here."  
  
"This wasn't exactly where I wanted to end up."  
  
"This area is off limits to guests. Father said so."  
  
"Frost may be the one who holds my ticket, but he didn't invite me here."  
  
"Then you're not invited."  
  
"You sure about that?"  
  
"You shouldn't be here."  
  
"That's not the same thing, Aurora."  
  
There was silence in the room, broken by the sounds of the guests mingling in the main hall.  
  
"How much is real to you, Logan? How much is dreams and hallucinations, how much completely forgotten?"  
  
"It comes to me in bits and pieces. I see things, but they're disjointed, overlapping with memories that I already have."  
  
"He'd let you go, you know. If you left now, nothing would happen to you."  
  
She had a point. He could go, take the bike, and be back at Xavier's in no time. Marie would certainly be happy to see him. Scott wouldn't be. That in and of itself would be worth it. And the witch... Well, he'd just have to take that one step at a time.  
  
He was half way to the door before he realized what was going on.  
  
"Does your father's little watch dog know that you can do that?"  
  
"Do what?"  
  
He felt anger start to fill him. She was lying to him. She'd probably been lying to him before they even met in person. Why was he still standing here? He should get back on the bike, which was in the lower basement, and head back to Xavier's.  
  
"Look, Aurora, Emma, whoever you are, I had no way of knowing where they were keeping the motorcycle. Quit messing with my head. It's not going to get you anywhere." Then her shoulders slumped, just a little, and the anger turned, leaving in its place a hollow pang. Not to mention the beginning of a pounding headache. "Now, just how much is real?"  
  
There was a pregnant pause, and she finally turned from the windows. "You know, sometimes I wonder that myself. How much of what I remember is true, how much is what Jack tells Mastermind that I should know, what I should be. Half the time I don't even know where I end and everyone else begins. Makes it kind of hard to figure things out."  
  
"I'm with you on that one."  
  
"You only know the half of it. Until a little while ago, you knew what was true. I've spent my entire life split, or changed around. You just don't know."  
  
He watched her closely, trying to drag up the dreams, how it all ended. "Show me," he said finally. Her head snapped up at that, her eyes icing over. "Not from what you've been through. Help me find what I'm missing." She stood silently for so long he was afraid she'd called for the guards and was waiting for them to arrive. Remembering his last encounter with Frost's little force set his teeth on edge. Hesitantly, she reached for his face, stopping just shy of his skin. She jerked back, frozen in the pale light. Then her face became impassive, and her hands darted forwards, cool against the sides of his face, long fingers pressing against his temple. He closed his eyes as he felt her ruffling through his brain.  
  
Then they were falling among the dark.  
  
The scenes came to him in a disjointed manner, like he was watching a bad filmstrip.  
  
Gunning the motorcycle as he raced from the hotel, following the pull in his head East. Passing by the Boston city limits sign, heading through the heart of the metropolis and into the upscale part, never really knowing where he was going, just following the pull. The grass was just starting to yellow, fading to the colour of the concrete. The tall buildings flashed by him, imposing structures of glass and metal.  
  
Then he smelled the smoke.  
  
The fire was new, probably not even through the building yet, still small. He remembered pulling up on the lawn by the front doors of the building with the fire inside. He couldn't even see it. Alarms were going off as he pushed through the door. Rowland Meadows, the sign in the lobby read.  
  
Logan had seen enough sanitariums to know one when he was inside. They may call this place fancy names, and the price tag may have been steep, but it was, in the end, just a nut house. A pair of orderlies were ushering a group of people down the corridor. The fire was starting to pick up. In the confusion, he wasn't stopped. No one questioned his right to be there. He followed his nose and his instincts through the corridors, catching the occasional glimpse of other people.  
  
He couldn't see their faces. Pale blurs passed by him.  
  
Then he was at what was, if not the source of attention, the source of the conflict. He didn't know how it had started, but the flames were shooting up quickly. A man in an orderly's uniform was crouched on the floor screaming. He wasn't on fire though. His hands were clamped to his head and he was rocking.  
  
Logan saw Aurora standing among the flames, miraculously untouched so far. She was standing stock still, but the flames moved around her, making her a part of them. Something in the curve of her lips, the tilt of her face made her wild, primal. She was beside him too. He could smell the one standing in the fire, honeysuckle and air before a rain. Her astral form looked at him once, then at the scene before them, then vanished. Aurora jerked in the flames, once.   
  
He watched as she kicked the man lying on the floor, her foot making contact again and again. He watched as sweat trickled down his face, tracing patterns along the set of horizontal scratches that graced his right cheek bone. The scratches were at least a week old.  
  
He remembered pulling her away when the flames rose too high, when he was afraid that if he waited any longer, he wouldn't be able to get her out in time. He could see the fire reflecting in her glassy eyes as she jumped at his touch, almost unleashing a mental blast on him. He saw her slowly starting to realize where she was. When her legs started to crumble, he took her arm, pulling her through the hall ways, hoping to find a side exit free of fire fighters.  
  
Then he was letting go of her as she collapsed onto the grass. Listening to her breathing, he thought that the smoke inhalation could have been a lot worse. Most of the bruises on her arms were purple and yellow with time already. He'd still have to take her to the hospital, but it could wait until they got to the next city. He had the feeling that Boston was going to be worse for their health than putting off a visit to the doctor. How was he going to explain her condition to people in the ER? They might call child services.  
  
Did he want her being taken care of in a place that wouldn't?   
  
They walked among the fire fighters, paramedics, and residents as they headed for the cycle. The eyes of the assembled crowd passed right over the odd pair, as if they weren't even there.  
  
They were almost out of Boston when it happened.  
  
He watched as he decelerated, pulling to the curb. His body out of his control, he just stood there, straddling the bike, unresponsive as Aurora tugged at his arm, trying to get his attention.  
  
He could smell them coming. He tried to warn her, but he couldn't even move. He threw the thought at her, but she was too tired to pick up on it. The night had drained her utterly. All she could feel was anger.  
  
Frost strode out of the shadows surrounding the buildings, his face a mask of annoyance.  
  
Logan hadn't known then who he was, only that his scent resembled Aurora's.   
  
She jumped off the back of the motorcycle, tripping over her own feet as she landed. Scrambling upright, she looked at Logan with shock in her eyes. He wasn't looking at her. She wanted to be away, to be anywhere but here.  
  
He watched in shock as she appeared at the end of the street infront of him, a good two hundred metres away. Even from this distance, he could tell that she didn't carry a scent anymore.   
  
But she was standing off to the side of the bike as well. A mixture of smoke and air before the storm told him she was still there.  
  
Then the Aurora standing on the corner disappeared, and he heard a gasp come from beside him. He managed to turn his eyes to her. He wanted to tell her that he hadn't betrayed her, that this wasn't of his doing, but all he could do was stare back impassively.   
  
She felt a tickle in her eyes, and she bit her knuckles. She wouldn't let them see that they'd hurt her, that she cared. How had she been so stupid? There weren't any saviors, any fairy tale endings. She turned, starting to run, anything to put distance between her and *them*.  
  
She only got a few yards before another figure stepped out of the shadows, catching her around the waist. She struggled in the manner of one accustomed to being grabbed, one who knew just what would happen if she didn't get away.   
  
She wouldn't let them get her, she wouldn't let him get her.   
  
She kicked at his shins, trying to turn so that her hands could get at his eyes. Her elbow caught him in the chin, and for a second Logan thought that she would get away as he rocked back on his heels. She swept her leg under her attacker's feet, knocking them out from under him. Logan felt the paralysis holding him lessen somewhat.  
  
But he kept his hold on her, using it to topple forwards instead of onto his back. Logan was trapped again. She started to scream as the other man's weight fell on top of her. They rolled on the ground, each trying to gain the upper hand. Logan could almost grin as she used some of the moves that she'd learned from him.   
  
If he was free, then that man would be ventilated by now.  
  
Aurora broke free from her attacker's grip, scrambling off of him. She started to run, darting down the street. But he rolled towards her as she took off, his hand snaking out, fastening on her trailing ankle. Her momentum worked against her, spilling her flat out onto the asphalt. Logan could hear a sickening crack as her head smacked into the ground. He willed her to get up and run. She still had a chance to get out of this, no matter what happened to him.  
  
But she just moved weakly on the pavement, a whimper escaping her lips. The pain filled her skull, blotting out the sensation as her attacker grabbed her arms, hauling her up none too gently. He held her hands with one arm, the other wrapped around her waist tightly. Marched her back over to the curb where Logan stood straining against the invisible bonds that held him immobile, where Robert Frost looked on with studied disinterest. Aurora started to wake up, and realizing what was going on, she began to struggle again. When she got in a good kick Mastermind, who held her, he let go of her waist and passed a hand over her forehead. His face was shrouded in concentration, and as Aurora finally stopped fighting, he released her. She stood as still as Logan himself, her eyes burning with the brightness of the fire they had left back at Rowland Meadows.  
  
Frost watched the entire scene, his face never changing. Logan hated him. Frost walked up to his daughter, studying her carefully. He slapped her suddenly, his expression still frozen. "Do you have any idea of the mess that you've created?" He asked. Logan was growling. "I'm going to have to pay for repairs to Rowland's. Not to mention the black mark that this is going to put on my reputation. Having a daughter who hears voices was bad enough, but that was easily taken care of. All I had to do was put you in a good place, not too far from home, so that it didn't look like I was trying to get rid of you. You've destroyed the most prestigious faculty in the several counties."  
  
It was Frost's tone of voice that really got to Logan. Aurora's father wasn't angry. He wasn't upset, not really. He was just annoyed.   
  
This didn't really mean anything to him. It was just an unfortunate set of coincidences that he had to deal with.  
  
Then Logan was halfway back in the room in the Frost mansion, standing still with Aurora's fingers pressed against his head. He was in both places at once, watching the past unfold. Here, Aurora's eyes were squeezed shut.  
  
//Mastermind's coming.//  
  
She'd known that he would be. Logan felt a million different things filter through her as the name echoed between them. //Thinks he has me under control. Thinks that I don't remember anything, that I can't use my powers without him knowing. He's not as great as he thinks. I've been halfway free since about three weeks after he wiped and restructured us. As long as it's nothing too overt, he doesn't notice.//  
  
Her mental speech was somewhat choppy, but it pounded loudly in his head.  
  
Her attention divided, her control started to slip, and alien thoughts and images slammed around inside his head. Watching from a hall as Frost payed him. A boy lighting a court yard bench on fire. Frost's impassive face as Mastermind moved on Logan, restructuring his memories of the last years, the backlash screaming inside his (her) head. Fear and anger as his (her) father's lacky moved towards him (her).  
  
"You knew that he'd feel this, didn't you?" He asked, the words falling loudly in the silence  
  
//He's bringing a group of guards with him. Jack's ushered the guests into a different part of the house, claiming he wants to show them a presentation. He's got Sebastian running it. Jack's coming with the force, too.//  
  
"Then we might want to continue this conversation else where, might we not?"  
  
She grabbed his hand, pulling him through the halls, through a kitchen where a pair of pheasants were roasting in the oven. Down the stairs, through another level of rooms and corridors. They didn't speak.  
  
"Almost there," she finally said as they turned a corner. Logan pulled her behind him as they rounded it. The smell of motor oil and exhaust issuing from the nearby garage had masked the scent of the people standing in the next room until it was almost too late.  
  
Robert Frost and Mastermind stood in front of the door to the garage, flanked by half a dozen guards, none of whom carried fire arms. They must not be far enough away from the party to risk the sound of gunshots.  
  
He heard Emma take a deep, gasping breath. Turning to her, he saw her face furrow in concentration. Looking at Mastermind's similar expression, he guessed that the two were locked in a battle that he couldn't understand.  
  
Then the guards were on him and he couldn't think of anything outside of himself.  
  
He wasn't sure how long the fight lasted. The guards were well trained, and the only reason that he wasn't gone right off the bat was that they were overconfident. He'd taken down two before the rest backed off, watching him warily. He popped his claws and grinned savagely.  
  
They didn't seem at all put off by the show. It just made them more cautious. At several points throughout the fight that followed, he wished for back up, even if it came in the form of old One Eye.  
  
Luck was most decidedly the largest factor in his continued survival. By the time he took the third down his opponents were only more determined, and he was bleeding heavily from several wounds. A stitch in his side was slow to heal, making it hard for him to breath. He'd taken half of their group out of the picture, and they wanted blood. They rushed him as one. He managed to get an elbow into the nose of one. The man went down screaming. There were probably a few bone fragments floating around in his brain.  
  
But one caught his arms and held them wide. Time seemed to slow to a crawl. The last one pulled a knife from somewhere on his person, and as it arced towards his neck, Logan wondered absently why the other man hadn't used it before. *I'm sorry, Aurora. I'm sorry, Emma.* A picture of Ororo filled his mind, and he was filled with the impulse to reach out to her. *Tell Marie good bye for me, okay?*  
  
Then the man with the knife dropped the weapon, reaching for his head with a scream of pain. He saw Mastermind lying on the tiles, Frost staring at the five guards now spread across the floor, and time snapped back to its normal flow. He drew his arm back, catching the man holding him across the temple. He fell with a grunt, leaving only three standing.  
  
Emma stepped towards her father. Frost looked as if he was truly seeing her for the first time. As her steady pace drew her ever forward, he stumbled back, knocking over an antique coat stand. He fell among the jackets and hats, tangled to the floor. She stopped at his feet and reached towards him. He closed his eyes as her hand closed in on him. She reached down, and past him, picking up a leather bomber from where it had fallen when he knocked over the stand. She leaned in close to him, watching as his expression remained one of abject terror. She whispered in his ear. "I'm not you."   
  
Then she stood and opened the garage door, walking through as she shrugged the jacket on. Logan followed her inside, grinning at the incomprehension flickering across Frost's face. He gave the man a kick for good measure.  
  
Aurora walked over to the outer garage doors, flicking the switch that opened them. Logan found a helmet on one of the side tables and threw it to her. He found the motorcycle among the other vehicles. The keys were still in the ignition. He rolled it out onto the drive way.  
  
"Are you going to let me drive?" Aurora asked him.  
  
"You don't know how to get where we're going," he said.  
  
"You could tell me."  
  
"I bet you don't even have a license."   
  
"So?"   
  
"Just get on the bike, or I'm leaving you here," he said, fighting a grin.  
  
With an exaggerated sigh, she climbed on behind him, buckling the helmet under her chin.   
  
He tried to ignore the way she was pouting. "Look, I might let you drive in a bit, but we have to get as far away from Boston as we can, in as little time as possible."  
  
"I'm going to hold you to that, you know."  
  
He started the bike, smiling when it purred to life on the first try. Aurora wrapped her arms around his waist. "Where are we going anyway?" She asked as they pulled out onto the wide, silent street.  
  
"New Salem, Westchester," he said, looking at her in the side mirror attached to the handle bar.  
  
"What's there?" She asked him, touching his mind to see if he was being truthful.  
  
"Home."


End file.
